She fetched her laptop and turned it on. She waited a moment before pulling up photographs from the forensic division.
McGaven made himself comfortable in a chair in the corner. “So how do we move forward? How do we link the murders? Especially since most cases like this point to those closest to the child.”
“More than eighty percent of the time,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’s true, but there are always exceptions to the general investigative rule. To be a good investigator, you must remain objective and not get tunnel vision on one suspect.” She sighed. “And you’re right, we have to find linkage between the victims.”
McGaven raised his eyebrows, most likely wondering how they would do that.
Reading some notes that had been sent over from Templeton’s camp, she said, “The next-door neighbors, the Stanleys, were deceitful, but they were both ruled out. I believe that’s most likely correct. My gut tells me that Detective Templeton is building some type of circumstantial case to clear these homicides.”
“Also known as indirect evidence, used to infer something based on a series of facts separate from the fact the argument is trying to prove,” said McGaven, almost as if he was reading from the textbook.
“Wow, someone retained information from their criminal-justice classes.”
“It’s a curse. Most of the time I remember useless things—that’s what people say.”
“Who cares what those kind of people think.”
“She’s absolutely correct,” said Blackburn, standing at the doorway holding a remote control in his hand.
Katie was startled at first. She had forgotten that the forensic supervisor was still at the house. She had noticed that he had a certain look about him when he was in new or unusual situations, quickly scouring his surroundings and making sure that he was in a position where he could observe everything around him with ease.
“From what I see,” he said, “you’re going to need more than interviews and circumstantial evidence.”
“We need forensic evidence that points to the killer,” said Katie. She turned her attention to what was in Blackburn’s hand. “What’s that?” she asked curiously.
“This,” he held it up for them both to see, “is the remote for your security system. You’ll have the same access on your cell phone once you download the app.”
“Fantastic. Are you going to give me a tour?”
“Of course.”
McGaven got to his feet and headed eagerly to the doorway. “Let’s check it out.”
Cisco leapt up too; he didn’t want to be left out. He trotted behind McGaven, keeping his ears and senses alert.
Katie smiled and followed the men to the front door.
“Okay,” began Blackburn. He pointed to a small panel on the wall. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. When you want to set the alarm, punch in a hashtag and your four-digit code. You do the same when you enter the house to turn it off or reset it.”
“Sounds easy enough,” said Katie. She had used security systems like that before and found them straightforward.
“Okay, now here’s the cool part,” he said.
Katie and McGaven waited.
He punched in a couple of numbers on the remote and he was able to show the views from two cameras on the property from a small viewer. The footage was in black and white, but it was clear in resolution.
Katie retrieved her phone and began to download the relevant app. After a few minutes, she had it loaded up.
“Now you need to pick four numbers for your code,” Blackburn said.
She thought about it; she didn’t want it to be easy for someone else to figure out. It came to her quickly: 0319, the month and day of her deployment.
“Looks like you’re all set,” the forensic supervisor said.
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s been my pleasure.”